


Voyeur

by SubwayWolf



Series: Use the Press [3]
Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Lovers, Enemy Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:10:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7295329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Francis' orders, Seth begrudgingly goes to check up on Doug. The visits do not go as expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daydream

**Author's Note:**

> i was so upset in the show when they didnt show all of seth's visits to doug. because they've definitely fucked at least once. 
> 
> btw this is a tie-in to [the house wins](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6226294). because that fic is a never-ending monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> parts of this i wrote two weeks ago, and other parts i wrote two minutes ago. so if its weird, that's why.

Their eyes met, blue on black.

Through the open windows, the sun had already set. In Doug’s apartment, a kitchen light was on, along with a lamp in the living room. It was otherwise dark. But Doug’s eyes cut right through the darkness, his gaze striking in a physical, tangible way.

“You look terrible.” Doug opened up with that instead of a hello. He was in the kitchen, behind open doors, leaning against the countertop, cane in hand.

Seth stood at the exit. He felt safe there. “Things are difficult at the White House,” he explained, but he didn’t need to. Doug was right, Seth looked like shit. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, because he really hadn’t. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable. He wondered if he remembered to brush his teeth this morning.

“You need my help.” Doug was not finishing Seth’s sentence, he was making one of his own, one he thought was the truth.

Seth really didn’t want to talk about this. He sighed. “Not if you aren’t ready.”

They’d had this conversation before. Doug had to have known that it would go this way again. He folded his arms and glared at Seth from the other room. “Come here.” 

Seth had to hesitate, because he didn’t like following orders immediately. But then he made his way over, strolling casually, not wanting to appear to be in any rush.

Doug was in grey sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. Uncanny, Seth thought, how the lack of color matched his personality. It was still very strange to see him out of a suit, or even without a tie. It also gave Seth a nice little power rush, for Seth was still in his work clothes, an expensive silver suit, a blue button-down, and a striped grey tie. He took pride in his appearance. He might have taken extra care today, since he knew he was seeing Doug, but he would never admit that.

Once they were close enough, Doug un-folded his arms and looked Seth in the eye. “I am ready. Tell that to the President.”

Seth looked down at him and managed not to smirk. “I don’t want you overworking yourself if things are still hard for you.” He put his hands in his pockets because he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I’m under orders, Doug. I can’t lie to him and tell him you’re ready. No matter how much I want to.”

Doug called him out. “You want to?” He seemed more disgusted than suggestive, which was somehow better.

“What I want is to stop having to call you and pay you visits.” It didn’t sound genuine, even though it sort of was. Seth just had a voice that people didn’t trust, even if he was telling the truth.

“I know you’re under orders. But I imagine that you stand to benefit from keeping me in the dark.” He didn’t have to explain. Seth liked his new authority over Doug, that was clear as day. “Let me remind you that this is a team effort, and Francis is the priority. We can’t behave like underlings fight for the attention of the alpha wolf.”

Seth tried not to laugh at the absurd analogy. “Don’t you remember being the one who started this petty rivalry? Remember calling me out in the Underwoods’ backyard, or during meetings, or behind my back, as I’m sure you did? Now that I’ve got a place in the administration, you think we should stop fighting.”

“Don’t act like a child,” Doug started, though his teeth. “What I remember is putting that behind us. I remember apologizing to your face, and you accepting my apology.” He took a step closer. “You told me that you would do anything and everything I asked of you.”

Seth found his throat running dry. He felt like he should say something, but he just couldn’t. It felt like ages ago, but he did say that. And he meant it. And he hoped Doug would take the hint, standing alone with him in the old Chief of Staff office, getting closer by the second, the temperature in the room raising to boiling point. Maybe he was oblivious, or maybe it had taken him this long. Or maybe he knew all along.

Seth didn’t make eye contact with him anymore, he just couldn’t. “You’re right. The infighting should stop. Conflict won’t help us get what we want.”

Doug was perfectly still. Seth would have preferred if he paced when he was angry instead of staying so damn close, but no luck. “You’re referring to Francis.”

“No.” Seth stared at the floor, furrowing his brow. “Not anymore. That’s your territory. I’m not sure if I belong.” Seth’s stomach soured, he hated being vulnerable and he put himself in the worst position, in front of Doug-

“You do belong.” Doug was dead serious. “Don’t doubt yourself, Seth. This is the worst time for that.”

There were a lot of ways Seth doubted himself, but his talent and work ethic were not one of them. “I’m confident in my own abilities,” he clarified, because that’s what mattered. He decided to drop the bomb now. “Frank has been seeing someone else. I haven’t been allowed in. Neither has Meechum.”

Doug didn’t seem fazed at all, which was shocking. But he’d probably been through this before. He knew that Frank jumped from person to person. He’d experienced the heartbreak – or, emptiness and jealousy, rather – many times before, and gotten over it, gotten used to it. He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t surprised. He was dependent and clingy but he knew his place. Seth wished he was capable of forgiveness, of this obscure kind of selflessness.

After only a pause to process the news, Doug was back to lecturing. “Francis may be neglecting you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t belong. You’re good at your job. Just like I am good at mine.”

That was something Seth couldn’t deny. He wondered if he should be put off by all these recent compliments from Doug, but somehow they did not upset him. They even felt normal. Sometimes, it felt good.

But Doug was ready to change the topic again. “Does Francis need me?” The answer was yes, _of course_ , but also no, because it was true that Francis wanted Doug in top condition. 

Seth avoided answering directly. “Remy is capable.” That was true, too, as much as he hated to admit it.

“Do _you_ need me?”

Seth’s stomach twisted. Since when did Doug give a shit what Seth wanted or needed?

Since always? Seth felt sick. It was so hard to read this guy. He never knew or expected that he could be cared for or even regarded in return. But he was. Right?

He fiddled with his car keys in his pockets, running his thumb along the teeth of a golden key, feeling the cool metal with the pad of his finger. He wanted to get closer to Doug, wanted to touch him. His hands were fists in his pockets, gripping whatever they could find. The key’s teeth dug into the palm of his hand, almost hard enough to draw blood.

“Needing and wanting are two different things,” Seth said before he could stop himself. 

“Not always.”

Seth looked away. A sour taste rose in his mouth. It was true. Seth’s needs and wants were overlapping, suddenly. He couldn’t tell them apart. The distinction was blurry.

Doug got closer. The distance between them was shrinking and Seth could feel his muscles tensing, his gut backing up. He wondered if this was fear, or something else. The temperature in the room seemed to raise, or maybe it was just the temperature under Seth’s blue collar. 

“Do you know what I want, and what I need?” Doug asked him.

Seth looked at Doug’s lips instead of his eyes, and shook his head no.

“I want to be productive again. I crave it.” His eyes were locked on to Seth’s like a hunting hawk’s, Seth could feel it. “You must know how that feels, to want a purpose. The desire to be useful. To be wanted.”

Seth’s heart tore open in his chest. Yes, he knew how it felt. Yes, that was what he wanted. He didn’t care if it came in the form of sex or praise or a daily to-do list in his email inbox. It didn’t need to come from Frank Underwood. Maybe… maybe, it needed to come from Doug himself.

“I want…” Seth swallowed; nothing. His throat was dry, reminding him of the triple-digit temperatures at the peak of an Amarillo summer, the air dryer than the cracks in the dusty, starved ground.

Doug put his hand out and touched Seth on the arm. Their first moment of tenderness. “Seth?”

Seth rephrased himself. “I only feel purpose when someone requires something of me.” It was a miracle he did not cry as he said that. It came out as if he were saying, _I’m lonely_ , which he really wanted to say, to tell someone, but he didn’t, he couldn’t say it aloud, never.

The hand gingerly touching Seth’s arm moved to his throat. Seth’s hands were out of his pockets in a second, but he did not push Doug away or even touch him. He was scared, but ready. He didn’t want it to stop.

Every door in the place had glass paneling, and the walls had windows, and it was like the whole world could see them. If he peered out the glass, he would see eyes starting in at him, watching them, observing and cataloging their every move.

Seth felt exposed. Every nerve was on fire, every hair standing up on end from some invisible electric surge. His heart sped, Doug could likely feel it with his dry hand closing around the quickly pulsing arteries up the sides.

Their eyes met, Seth’s, ghostly blue, shining with fear. Doug’s were black and dead. He whispered, “I require something of you.”

Doug’s hand curled around Seth’s throat but did not squeeze. Fingers dug into skin, but Seth could breathe. He savored every second of air. He did not know if the threat was to deter him from making any further move, or to deter him from stopping.

They leaned forward, and their lips touched, roughly, awkwardly, their eyes still open halfway, staring at each other, a silent challenge souring the air as they met, persistent and protesting, blushing from shame. Then everything slowed down, and they closed their eyes, and they kissed.

Seth’s hands found Doug’s slim waist and urged him closer. The hand threatening to close on Seth’s neck moved to the back of his head, to his hair, tangling in his outgrown brown locks and taking a firm grip. Doug was losing himself in the kiss, quickly, and Seth was too. They tilted their heads and countered each other’s every move to an exact, matched force.

He remembered kneeling beside Doug on the floor in front of Underwood, how their lips and tongues brushed together with Francis’ big cock in between. Were those half-seconds of intimacy their first kisses? If so, they’d done this a hundred times before, touching tongues and swapping spit there on the floor in the dark. 

No, this was so different. It wasn’t fueled by lust or frustration or competition. They were equals now.

This was new, and thus mildly horrifying. As old as they were, it seemed they really hadn’t acquired much experience with intimate kissing. Doug calmed him, effectively. Seth’s heart rate evened out, each beat sending adrenaline through him, buzzing from fingertips to brain, but everything was deliberately placed, slow and stable. Seth let his tongue pass into Doug’s mouth, feeling a competitor there, pushing and brushing and easing against it. Their lips parted and the space released a moan; Seth wasn’t sure from whom. 

Seth wanted to urge him back, maybe lift him up on the countertop, spread his legs a little so Doug could latch them around Seth’s hips, but Doug broke it off before any move could be made. 

The kiss ended but they stayed close, catching their breath, still touching. Musky, erotic heat rose between them, in the inches apart they stood, in the space between their magnetically compelled bodies and hearts.

Their eyes opened, slowly, to acclimate with the world around them again. Doug took his hand out of Seth’s hair and released him. “Tell me that was inevitable,” he pled, regaining breath lost to his partner.

Seth furrowed his brow. He felt unsure. “It was… something,” he settled on saying. Sufficiently vague. Good enough for now. There was plenty of time to lay awake thinking about what this meant, later. Seth had a feeling he wouldn’t be here much longer.

That moment of mutual vulnerability just made the walls they put up around themselves a bit more awkward to climb. Once you had seen past it, there was no point in reassembling, but it was habit, it was self-protection. 

They had opened up to each other. It was personal and intimate bonding, not a team building exercise. There was no coming back from this one unscathed.

Seth discovered that Doug was not so hard to read anymore. “Do you want me to leave?”

Doug stepped away from him and would no longer look him in the eyes. “Yes,” he answered, without hesitation.

There was no need to protest. Seth left him, out the door and to the elevator. Seth left, wanting more, and he knew that Doug felt the same; he could feel it, smell it in the air, they both could.

They would get more, eventually, Seth was sure of it. It would happen as long as Frank fucking Underwood didn’t get in the way, in presence or in spirit. Of that, there was no predicting. 

It was a waiting game. Who would cave or break first? Seth despised even odds, so he didn’t guess. But part of him already knew that he would be the one to surrender.


	2. Wet Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lolololol this isnt new or anything im just condensing the separate fic into the big one sorry if i alarmed anybody
> 
> im into yuri on ice and overwatch now so hmu if you want me to write something

The conversation they’d had last time must not have been very productive, because not long after Seth walked into Doug’s apartment and closed the door behind him, Doug asked unceremoniously, “Why did you come back here?”

Instead of answering, Seth sighed. Could he really not catch a break at all? Even outside of work, every single one of his movements were questioned and analyzed. He wondered if these visits counted as work too, and supposed so. Truly, he was not hear for business, not entirely; he was here for the opposite. 

Seth made sure the door was closed behind him and went into the kitchen where Doug was standing. It was disturbingly clean, like the rest of Doug’s place. Seth tried to picture Doug on his hands and knees with a soapy pail and a sponge, maybe in a little maid’s apron, then he pushed the image away.

Doug was near his table, which had one too many chairs at it. From what Seth could tell, the man never had guests over. “Are you going to make me repeat myself?” he asked when Seth went too long without responding.

There were a lot ways to answer. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Seth answered, instead of _Please come back to work_ , or and explanation like _Frank needs you because the administration is basically fucked_ , or, more aptly, _I haven’t slept in three weeks and I want you bad_.

Doug repeated himself. “Don’t lie to me. Why are you here?” He barely gave a pause. “Do you think I’m going to let you kiss me again?”

It sounded absurd even as he repeated it. He could practically feel Doug’s hand still on his throat, squeezing, threatening. It was a sensation that kept Seth awake at night, one that put a fear of the dark in him. He imagined Doug’s hand there, squeezing his throat, when he touched himself, coming beneath the bed sheets and leaving his cream in some tissues or an old sock.

Seth didn’t let onto that, though, and didn’t even respond to the loaded statement. He couldn’t win, no matter how he answered, so he stayed quiet and glared.

Doug approached him. Seth didn’t move from his spot, and soon enough he was cornered, his back against the countertop. Out of habit, Seth looked for a route to escape and found none. His body temperature began to raise.

Doug’s body was so close, his hands on the counter to either side of Seth’s waist, pinning him, leaving no escape. “Are you back because you think you can fuck me? Think I’ll spread my legs for you?”

Seth’s collar felt like it was tightening on its own. He wanted to reach up and tug his tie loose, so he could breathe, but there was no room for that. “I’m here because Underwood sent me.”

“And why do you think he sent you?” 

Oh. To fuck him? It seemed obvious now. Doug could have been playing Seth for a fool, but then again, that didn’t seem like a trick Stamper would pull. If Francis had really intended for Seth be a bed-warmer in Francis’ own place, he must have judged Doug and Seth’s relationship completely wrong. Or absolutely perfectly.

Just as Doug was about to repeat his initial question again, Seth answered it. “I’m here because I need you.” 

It came out in a weak, horribly pathetic whisper. But it was a true statement, on a number of levels, and Doug needed to hear it. They had discussed wants and needs last time they had met and made the distinction clear. Seth had thought long and hard about the overlap of both desires. He wanted to tell Doug that he fit in the middle of that psychological venn diagram, but couldn’t find the right words to say it.

Doug answered, not verbally, but by placing his mouth over Seth’s, surprising him with the fullness and heaviness of the force. But Seth matched him, leaning forward to counter the push back, bringing a hand to the back of Doug’s head to pull him closer and make it clear he wanted this.

It was just like last time, but less scary, more relieving. Seth had been thinking about it every day for a week now, every sensory output – the taste, smell, temperature, wetness; it was all back, just the same. He didn’t realize how much he’d craved it until now. This was satiation. The pleasure made him dizzy with lust. The satisfaction built up a tolerance, and in half a heartbeat all he wanted was more.

They were soon grabbing at each other, Seth pulling him closer and Doug grabbing at Seth’s hair and his clothes, pulling and tearing in a frenzy to be closer. Their torsos met, and Seth could feel Doug’s flat tummy against his own soft one, his softness the only buffer between them, like pressing against a pillow. But it got them closer, and their hips locked, Seth’s a deal wider, but they fit nonetheless.

Doug’s impatient grasping and closeness was doing wonders to elevate Seth’s heat wave of lust. His dress slacks were almost bursting at the seams. These pants gave no yield room for erections. Seth’s cock found room to grow down his pant leg, making a visible, thick, snake-like bulge.

It didn’t go unnoticed. Doug broke the kiss. He cupped his hand around Seth’s cock and balls, feeling their weight, holding them loosely and lifting his hand. “You’re hard from this?”

Seth wondered if he should apologize. He didn’t feel sorry, though, or guilty. Just immensely fucking aroused. He figured Doug would call him pathetic. 

But Doug didn’t say anything else. He fondled Seth’s balls a bit more. “I want to take you in my mouth.” He turned away, flushed, and wouldn’t look Seth in the eye. 

Was he embarrassed? Seth legitimately could not tell. Reading Doug was borderline impossible. He watched Doug set his jaw, at conflict with himself, probably deciding whether to threaten Seth again or walk away. Seth opted not to give him a choice. 

Seth kissed him again. He felt hands on his hips, undoing his belt, blindly and expertly. The kiss broke, and Seth was left with wet lips and nobody to kiss, as Doug got on his knees and unpacked the package before him.

And Doug didn’t waste a second. He took Seth’s cock in his hand and took each of his balls in his mouth, fuzzy and heavy, they hung down unceremoniously between his legs, stiff and sensitive and aching to release. Doug teased them with his mouth, a dirty sort of juggling, and with his first finger and thumb choked the base of Seth’s big cock to stiffen his erection even more.

The head of Seth’s dick was big and pink and Doug took it into his mouth without a second thought, his tongue running up the slit, gripping the shaft so that his thumb teased circles around the rim of the head. Doug gave it sweet kisses like he’d just planted on Seth’s mouth, wet kisses with tongue, a delicate contrast to the iron grip on the swollen shaft.

By the time Doug took the first half of it into his mouth, Seth was leaking pre-come. It slid out of him, beyond his control, the seed sliding out of his slit and down the back of Doug’s throat. Doug’s mouth was so hot, so wet, full of ridges and the teasing of his soft tongue. It felt fucking amazing. He was barely four inches inside, and he already felt his head spinning.

“Fuck,” he whined aloud. Both hands were gripping the granite countertop, white-knuckled in an effort to keep him standing. He closed his eyes and almost sobbed.

Seth was so scared that his knees would give out, that he might cry out or moan and alarm the neighbors or the whole city block. Years of experience pleasuring the most enigmatic and hard-assed man in the world gave Doug many skills to utilize. 

But Doug was so good. He took Seth’s entire ten-inch length, thick and hard and hot, all the way in his mouth. He could feel it in Doug’s throat, all the way completely _in_ there, and Doug didn’t spit up or drool or choke at all. 

It felt so fucking good. Doug was a goddamn expert. Seth imagined how many times Frank Underwood’s cock had been in this same spot, and he nearly sobbed again.

Doug knew how to destroy a man, and he showed it, grazing teeth on purpose as he pulled the cock out the back of his throat a few inches. Seth’s whole body tensed up in fear, his balls tightening up against his body, ready to come. He moaned and ran and hand through his hair, growing damp and sticking to his forehead. 

Seth opened his eyes and looked down. Doug’s face was all flushed, his eyes were closed, and he was concentrating, obviously fully aware of what he was doing. This was not his first time. And, oh god, he was touching himself, his red dick out of his pants, just barely, Doug had to have scrambled to pull them down to take his cock in his hand, and he was stroking himself now, deliberately, with measure. 

Part of Seth felt legitimately honored to be granted access to a spot so sweet, to be sharing this honor with the leader of the free world. The other half felt legitimately scared. Doug could bring President Underwood to his knees. And Frank was strong, so that was a paramount task. Seth knew, he could feel it in his heart that Doug could completely destroy him.

Seth felt so weak, like he could melt into a fucking puddle at any second, and he hated the feeling. He dug his nails into the granite and _hated_ it.

They met eyes – blue on black, again, a clash of dry ice and hot soot, and a shiver flashed up Seth’s spine, _complete_ fear. Doug was dominant right now, even if he was the one on his knees. Seth had no control. He was powerless, he could barely stand on his own without the support of the counter top. Seth tried to hate him, but he couldn’t.

“Jesus,” Seth cried out, breathless, no shame for speaking the name at a time like this. “I’m gonna come.” 

The warning was not sufficient because Seth was nutting before he even finished his sentence. His stomach tightened and his balls seized up and he came right into Doug’s mouth, deep, so it all ran down his throat and into his belly, swallowing it all up. Seth moaned embarrassingly loud as he finished, shooting out everything, down to the last drop. 

The kitchen was humid with the smell of sweat and the heat of their bodies. Doug had come too, in his hand. Seth could smell it. He was spent, and he felt like falling asleep, taking a nice long cat nap. It felt so fucking good, so satisfying. He felt weaker than ever before, and on top of the fucking world, simultaneously. 

The fear was gone. It had disappeared down the back of Doug’s wrung and abused throat, or into the musty air somewhere. 

Maybe this was what catharsis felt like.

Once he got to his feet, Doug wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His expression soured, like he tasted something that disgusted him. They didn’t look each other in the eyes. 

Seth wondered if he’d be asked to stay, or if he would have to compromise whatever dignity he had left to ask permission. Seth hadn’t taken pause to wonder, _what if he doesn’t want me after?_ , so it was hitting him now like an arrow through the heart. He loathed his own empty apartment, and if Doug made him leave right now, Seth decided he would rather roam around downtown Washington until the sun came up that return to an empty bed. 

Doug did not ask him to leave. He spoke at the floor, quietly, turning his face to Seth but not meeting his gaze. “It’s getting late,” he said, rigidly, still flushed from the intimacy. “No point it making the drive back home. My place is closer to the Capitol.”

Seth knew exactly what he meant. But he wanted to hear the words. He looked at Doug, silently begging for eye contact, leading him on, desperate for him to say it outright. “You mean…”

In return, Doug knew that he was being clear despite the vagueness, but he finished the statement anyway, he said it because it’s what Seth wanted and needed to hear, and Doug knew a lot about how that felt. 

Doug’s eyes turned, making contact with Seth’s, but the gaze elicited no shiver of fear in Seth’s heart, none at all. "I mean..." Doug softly paused and finished, “You can stay.”


End file.
